For one day every year, the trophy hunters from all across Urph would gather for a competition. It was an excuse to show off their prowess and earn some modest recognition along the way. Every year Wilma would come last.

It was the same year in and year out, twenty hours with naught but a single weapon and the clothes on one’s back to slay the most fearsome beast one could find and return with evidence of the kill. It was a test that required focus, to find and follow tracks in the earth; insight, to know where the creature may go next or where they might sleep or rest; and patience, to be able to hold still and wait for the perfect opportunity to make the kill. Wilma had the first two down, however she severely lacked the third. Her repeated failure had earned the huntress the unfortunate nickname ‘Bloodless’ which referred to the cleanly state her sword would always return in.

But this year the rules were to be changed, and Wilma saw an opportunity to rise in the ranks. For the first time in the contest, each hunter must declare which type of beast they are intending to slay. If they were to return with anything else, even something fiercer than what they first announced, they would instantly lose.

‘I will claim a cyclops,’ declared the first. ‘I will pluck its eye out like a grape by the end of my spear.’‘I will claim a chimera,’ declared the second. ‘For I shall have three new heads to mount upon my wall.’‘I will claim a sphinx,’ declared the third. ‘And I will cut its throat rather than answer to its riddle.’

Finally, all eyes turned to Wilma.

‘And what would you hunt bloodless?’

‘I shall claim a snail,’ she declared. ‘For I rather fancy my chances in the endeavour.' (Or, at the very least, she fancied them more than theirs.)

With the claims named and written, each of the hunters fled to the woods. All except Wilma, of course, who instead turned her attention to a dead and rain-dampened stump. It didn’t take long to find her prey; a silver slip of ooze left an easier trail to follow than any hoof or claw.

‘There shall be no long fruitless hours in a thicket or up a tree this time’ she smiled as she plucked the creature from its hole. She held it aloft as it shrivelled within itself, admiring the unusual glamourous sheen to its shell while it was still in one piece.

‘Wait’ came a voice, ‘before you make your kill, perhaps you would hear an offering?’

Wilma stepped back in confusion. She could not understand where the voice had come from. All the other hunters had already gone. The only living thing within speaking range was the...

‘I am no ordinary snail. I can grant you a single wish, anything you like, but only if you don’t squish me.’

Of course there had to be a spanner thrown into her plan. She’d never trusted witches or other such beings who promised they could fulfil wishes, often they had no such powers at all. She didn’t have enough experience with snails to judge whether they were trustworthy or not, however this snail could speak, which probably meant it had some sort of power.

‘What manner of thing could I wish for?’ asked Wilma.

‘Whatever your heart desires, I can make it so. But only one, as I have not the power for anything more…’

Wilma’s mind raced. She could stop them calling her Bloodless, or better: punish them when they did…‘…you could wish for great strength, or formidable wisdom…’…she could wish for the body of a dragon to appear and win the tournament. She could wish to win every tournament…​‘…perhaps immortality, or invulnerability…’…maybe wishing to be the best hunter on Urph could be a good way to go about it. That’d put a damper to their smug little faces…‘…one wish and you could have all the money in the world. You could wish for someone’s health to be restored who rests on death’s door…’​…money wouldn’t hurt. Wait, no. Money wouldn’t help her show off to the other hunters, they admired skill, not wealth…‘…you could reverse death. A soul passed away could return with just a simple wish…’…alas, that would be funny. She could just imagine how startled they would be when their kills suddenly got up again and walked off. But she still wouldn’t win, that wouldn’t help at all!…‘…you could wish for- ’‘Oh, I do wish you’d just shut up and let me think!’ yelled Wilma.

​‘…’

The snail never spoke again, not even to scream as it was crushed under the bitter huntress’ boot.

The world as we know it, was once nothing more than a rather large ball of clay: a vast and endless lump, formless and soft, without colour or texture. Over the aeons this mound’s surface began to crack and recede from the exposure to the void that surrounded it, and as the clay dried, the fissures widened and connected, forming shapes and figures, tessellating beings, angels cut out of gingerbread. When two cracks met and a being was made whole, they would rise up and study the ground they came from as an infant studies its mother. Known as the Sculptors to the ancient races, World-Smiths to dwarves, but more commonly referred to as The Gods, these titans looked upon the world of which they were the first to witness and named it: Urph.

Some say the Gods appear like great feathered tyrants with many arms shaped like instruments of creation and making; others say they are invisible and intangible, roaming the world as behemoths of air and water, passing unnoticed as a breath in a storm; others say they look like men, just much bigger. Those who support the latter tend to be men themselves and the whole concept is agreed to a very egocentric theology to hold by witches, elves and other elder beings.

The Gods grew bored very quickly in the void with nothing much to talk about so their interests soon turned towards the material of Urph and what could be done with it. The pulled the Urph up into points, blew the heat away and named them mountains. They crushed the Urph into sand between their fingers and the land on which they fell they named deserts. They pressed the Urph down into the floor forming recesses and the water that streamed out of it and filled the gap they named oceans. They threw the Urph up into the sky and the burning light it created as it burst a hole through the void they named the sun. And, while most were tidy and made sure that no flake of Urph went unused, others were too focused on their method of their own creations to pay any heed to the shavings and dust that their designs made. Left without purpose or name, these off-cuts grew minds of their own just as the Gods did. And so life began on Urph.

‘Oh, great one! May we ask of the purpose of our existence?’

The Titan turned and acknowledged their accidental creation with confusion and surprise. When the Gods communed, they spoke as storms and quakes, so it was startling to hear a voice be made.

‘Um’ said the Titan. ‘Sorry?’

‘Why did you make us, oh great one?’ said the being. This one was brown and smooth stood on two legs, when others usually had at least four and were more likely to make grunts or hoots or howls rather than structured sentences. ‘What are we to do?’ she continued.

The Titan paused and assessed the cluster of beings seemingly made from the dug outs of the most recent creation of a river. These sorts normally had the initiative to eat and fight and sleep on their own accord without feeling the need to ask for instruction.

The Titan gestured to the other creatures that surrounded them. ‘Do as they do. Do whatever you want, I don’t care.’

The being followed the direction of their hand towards the crocodiles that waited upstream, to the wildebeests that loped treacherously close to the waters edge, to the flies that bounced and fed and mated around the creatures’ rear.

‘Um, okay’ said the being. And seeing them set off happily to their task, the Titan returned to their work.

​

A day later the new life forms returned with a dozen dead wildebeest held up on podiums they had constructed from the stone beside the river.

‘A number of us decided we must give an offering of thanks for your guidance oh great one. We present to you the bodies of twelve of the wildebeest we have slain in your name.’

‘Oh’ said the Titan, ‘you needn’t have. Eat them, they’re yours.’

‘We lost five of our number to heat exhaustion, working to make these podiums oh great one. Please we insist.’

‘Well okay then,’ said the Titan embarrassed. The Titan picked up the beasts in their hands and put them somewhere out of sight. ‘I’ve put them somewhere special. Now don’t you feel you need to give me anything else okay?’

‘Have we offended you, oh great one?’ said a male in the group, short, bald and thickly bearded, ‘is there a better gift we should have given?’

The Titan sighed. Returning to the mountain range they were working on, they clenched the mound in their fist until shards of the Urph deep down condensed into glimmering metals and bright sparkling stones of ruby, quartz and sapphire.

‘In here,’ they said, forming tunnels and caves with their fingers, ‘are lots of shiny rocks and stuff. Go ahead and retrieve them for me. It’s dark down their so you won’t have to worry about the sun anymore.’

The male and his followers thanked the Titan with deep bows, then headed into the mines of the mountain to become Dwarves. The female too, thanked the Titan and then left them to their work.

On the next day the beings returned once more, with instruments made of wood from the trees that traced the mountains.

‘A number of us wished to praise yourself and your designs through our own creation of art.’

‘Oh, um sure, go ahead’ said the Titan.

The beings, led by another female, thin, red haired and pale as snow, began playing a song. It was the first song ever made on Urph. It was not good.

‘Ah,’ said the Titan, wincing. ‘How thoughtful.’

‘Have we displeased you oh great one?’ said the pale one. ‘Only we are short lived and sickly. I doubt that we could ever live long enough to create an expression that would truly meet your grace and beauty, oh divine titan.’

The Titan shook their head. They returned to the forest they were forming and rolled the trees in their hand, forming nuts and fruits in the gaps between their fingers.

‘There’ they said, once finished. ‘There is fruit in there that will give you a life longer than any other animal and allow you get that extra practice you dearly want.’

The pale female thanked them and left with their band to the forest where they were to become Elves. The other, darker one thanked the Titan too, and left them to continue their work.

On the next day, the remaining beings returned once more, with weapons in their hand made of metals from the Dwarves and wood from the Elves.

‘Oh, great one! A number of us thought to slight you and decry your consultation and aid as uncaring and cold, so we have slaughtered them and present to you their heads.’

‘F**king hell guys!’ yelled the Titan, now seeing now how much blood they were all covered in. ‘Look, this needs to stop. I’ve got my own stuff to do right now, I don’t need to look after you guys as well, I’ve got a world to build. If the other Titans see this, I’ll hear no end of trouble. Look here, you, come forward.’ They ushered the dark woman towards them.From their own palm, the Titan peeled a scrap of skin and folded it several times over, pressing it down into words and meaning. The skin became Urph’s first book and was handed down to the female's arms.

‘In there is the art of my technique’ said the Titan. ‘It will take a while to learn, but it will teach you how to do what I do, albeit on a smaller scale. You know, it’s probably not good if all of you have access to this, so limit it to a chosen few okay?’ They then addressed the entire population. ‘This one is my envoy now, you hear? Any questions or requests, you bring it to her, not me. Yes?’

They nodded and made vague grunts of agreement.

The female looked up to the Titan, the book pressed firmly against her chest. ‘But how am I to know what to say? How am I to know what’s right?’

‘You probably won’t have half an idea of what to do’ admitted the Titan, ‘but that’s still half more than I would know. You’re my divinely chosen delegate, I trust that you’ll do just fine. I’m going to wander off now, don’t follow me.’

The Titan left, turning only once over their shoulder to check that they had stayed put, and to their great relief, put they stayed.

Those that stayed put became the Men and Women of Urph. And that dark skinned one they looked to for protection and guidance: The world’s first Witch.

Well, now we need some more. Well, we probably always needed more. I suppose it'd just be nice to not lose money every episode. Anyway, here we go!

This money would pay for podcast and website hosting, new mics, reimbursement for the mics we've already bought, data storage, art commissions and perhaps even an editor down the line enabling me to get down to more stories! What do you get in return? Click here or click on the image and it'll take you to the Patreon page with more details of our various tiers. Also, currently up there is the yet unreleased pilot episode where we play through the opening of The Lost Mines of Phandelver, the adventure that comes with the D&D Starter Set using the same characters from Salt of Urph which will be exclusive to our patrons.

If can't afford any support for us, no worries, but if you spread the word about the podcast we may reach someone who can, at which point you will have vicariously supported us through them and everyone wins!

Also out now is Salt of Urph Episode 10: Innovsfall, the City of Towers which you can listen to down here. The Messers Fleming and Lowe hope you enjoy this podcast...

For as long as she can remember Ruth has been living in the care of the reclusive witch Mrs Boor in the forest-sheltered fortress of Chimera's Keep. However, as she's come into adulthood it's felt more and more to her that Mrs Boor is in fact, living in Ruth's care. Indeed, from the moment the young archer proved able to adequately hold conversations with strangers she has been working as the Beastmaker's courier, scout, and emissary, performing all the errands that Mrs Boor is to 'busy' to accomplish herself.
From gathering peculiar supplies from the travelling merchants of Innovsfall, to warding away rangers and warriors who wander too deep into the woods, Ruth has earned quite the reputation with the locals and has often been mistaken for a witch herself. As consequence, Ruth has made very few friends compared to others around her age (or at the least, very few friends that lack feathers, scales, fur or claws).
This latest errand however appears to be a rather difficult one: one that it might prove beneficial to have allies, for once.

The fifth episode of Salt of Urph is available now from your local podcast provider. The Messrs Fleming and Lowe hope you enjoy this podcast...

According to most Urphian scholars half-orcs were most likely devised aeons ago by some would-be conqueror-witch almost certainly in an attempt to combine the common or garden orc's fondness for forcefully dismantling property with human's ingenuity in the same field. However, as with most cases like these, the newly formed half-orcs probably got a bit too impatient waiting for the rest of the army to be formed and chose to test out their skills by extemporaneously razing the witch's stronghold to the ground.
Now and again however that particular human creativity comes to light strange ways, as with Styx, who in the process of smashing things with his war-band came to appreciate the noises that certain things made whilst being smashed. Styx had discovered music, and in doing so had set his course in life in a direction nobody could have expected.
With drumsticks made from the wood of an enchanted tree Styx left his war-band behind him to pursue his career as Urph's first ever and most talented half-orc bard.

The fourth episode of Salt of Urph is available now from your local podcast provider. The Messrs Fleming and Lowe hope you enjoy this podcast...

Crafted into being by a young witch-in-training Miss Rosie, Lumpkin is custom-made to be huggable and squishy and cosy and oh so very soft and nice! Tired of playing alone, the tenderfoot Miss Rosie had created Lumpkin to keep her company as she explored all across the fantastical world of Urph (Or at least as far as mother would allow).
​Unfortunately however, within only a couple years of their existence, this misshapen bear's life was sent into a tailspin when, for reasons unknown by Lumpkin, Miss Rosie abandoned them by the door of a shop never to return.
Since then, Lumpkin has rambled on through the wilds of Urph alone, scarred and hardened, looking for their place in a world not made for bears.

The third episode of Salt of Urph is available now from your local podcast provider. The Messrs Fleming and Lowe hope you enjoy this podcast...

Born and raised on the prosperous merchant island of Feles, young Tarquin is not used to going out of his way to get what he wants; as a son of one of the wealthiest trading families on the island, what he wants generally finds its way to him.
As consequence, Tarquin has ended up with very little in the way of the layman would consider 'useful' skills (aside from a deft hand for plucking wallets (to be used only for the odd occasion when his gambling enterprises go awry, of course).
And so, the worst thing that could possibly happen to Tarquin would be being plucked from their comfy home via dragon (whilst in an outhouse of all things) and dropped off in the middle of no-where with no clear way home...
....which is where our adventure begins.

The second episode of Salt of Urph is available now from your local podcast provider. The Messrs Fleming and Lowe hope you enjoy this podcast...

The first episode is here! For those of you who have enjoyed our Grinn & Berrit stories, we have devised a new actual-play Dungeons and Dragons podcast set within the world of Urph: the same land where our titular witch and cat reside.

Expect this to be of a similar tone to the stories released so far, with perhaps a little bit more chaos thrown into the mix (we have no control over our players, as you may soon see).

The Messrs Fleming and Lowe hope you enjoy what we've been preparing for you over the last few months...